


Hope is the Thing with Wings

by dudehansoloedme1



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Briefly mentions of abuse, Cute Dean and Sam, Hell Fic, I got bored after school, M/M, ughhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 23:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dudehansoloedme1/pseuds/dudehansoloedme1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has gone to hell. That kinda sucks. More than kinda. Until a pretty awesome ass piece of light comes and saves his slowly turning demon ass. Love develops. Well as close to love as you can get when you're surrounded by stupid people that thought it was a good idea to get pissy with people. Demons kind of get in the way too. Either way there is a pretty light and Dean being the poor idiot he is gets all kinds of flustered about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope is the Thing with Wings

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this after a really tough day at school and felt like inflicting my feels on everyone else! Enjoy the fic

Dean had always loved stories. Stories were his life. They were manly stories. So so manly. Stuff like the prince and the knight. The wizard and his great quest. He was totally into that sort of crap. Soap operas for kids. His mum would read him his the stories. Soft voices for the precious princesses. Gruff voices for the trolls under the bridge. And best of all she’d let him to the voices of the knights. At first it had been the voice of a four year old kid in bed but soon it descended into a gruff, battle hardened voice. Well as battle hardened as a four year old can get. Which was pretty battle hardened when you considered what had happened to Dean. That’s were John Winchester came in. The hunchbacked villain that so often turned out to have a nice side. To be honest that’s why Dean made his mum stay. Deep down there was something about John that was pure love. Turns out Dean was wrong. But that came later in Dean Winchester’s story. The little boy that loved storied turned into one the night that the flames glistened and flickered through the night.

The princesses burned that night in Lawrence and the trolls burned as well. It was probably the only time that you’d be sad by the death of trolls. That was the moment. The moment for the villain that made him snap. You know what makes those guys snap? It’s the moment when the person that they love dies. It’s the moment that they see the princess run off with the prince. They run and run from their problems and that’s exactly what John Winchester did. Chasing the man that he’d seen when Mary stared and bled.

Yellow Eyes.

That was all he had. Yet he dragged Dean and Sam around and pretty soon it turned into something more. He was chasing the darkness. Everything that went bump in the night. You’d think that he forgot about those fire lit eyes but they always stayed there and soon a myth arouse around the Winchester family. Hunters said that John imagined the eyes of the demon on each vampire, werewolf, wendigo and everything else that went bump in the night. There was always something extra. Like Dean and Sam burning on the ceiling. There was even the occasional blast of white behind him. Some sort of glowing. But those were only saved for the very special retellings.

Dean became the story teller of the family and the mother. Sure John was there occasionally but Dean was the parents. He cooked. He taught. He told stories. He tucked you in. He was happy-ish. He wished that he still had his mother to tell him stories. He didn’t tell Sam many, some of the ones that he remembered from Mary but some…well some were his own. His were tainted with more darkness that Mary had ever dared to put into hers. Monsters in closets that were never there and more often than not skeletons in the closet. But there was always one constant. One thing that never changed and never faltered. Angels. Angels would always be there to save the two people. Plus there was always one detail that he never told anyone else.

The angel’s name was always Castiel. He liked to call him Cas for short. Sam never knew this of course. It was really the only thing that he didn’t tell his brother –of course this would change over the years. Either way Dean continued through his life with the companion angel –of sorts- on his shoulder as he fathered Sam, slept with girls and pondered his wishes of something more.  
Now he was scared. Scared for his life. John was gone and so was Sam. Then there was a light, something that would go with intense heat and fire.

Fire.

The thought made Dean curl in on himself. The pain that Alastair had inflicted on him with that memory. Take a note. Don’t ever let demons see the things that scared you. Especially if you were Dean Winchester. Tendrils had licked at his brain. Cuts that others would never see. He would never let them if he ever got out of this literal hell hole. He was pretty sure that he was in the seventh ring. Either way it was impressive that the light had even gotten this far. There was a blackness. Not lack of light. Not shadows. This was the blackness of the human souls. Twisted and changed beyond recognition. That’s what had happened to Bela. Black spots that…were now being shoved into the demon’s ugly ass bodies only to start glowing? New. Not that ‘new’ wasn’t welcome around here…well that was as long as the particular new wasn’t a shining blade that was already stained with the other souls. Well the ‘physical manifestation’ of soul blood. Sammy would say that.

Oh god that hurt.

There was a stitching but not a hurty stitch. It was a good stitch. Hooks pulled out. Skin tearing only to be pushed back in place with a shove and a grunt. Dean twisted under the firm, warm and most important of all, loving touch. “Sammy?” he asked craning his head praying and begging that something had happened to his brother to let him come here. He wanted him so badly to be safe and the person to save him. “No,” the voice was ringing, glorious and part of him wanted to burst out in ‘Herald Angels Sing’ but part of him sensed that it would be kinda inappropriate since he was you know…attached to meat hooks in the middle of hell.

An image popped into his head. It was a little boy dressed in plaid tucking another one into a grungy hotel bed. Words swam in his ears. “And Sammy, you remember don’t you?” he asked as he leaned over the other to make sure that the other side was tucked in as well. Leaning back the younger but older brother stared down with glorious green eyes, “Angel are alwa-,” he was cut off by a soft, more tired voice. “Angels are always watching over you. I know Dean,”.

A gasp wrenched through the air that probably had never felt a single human breath. But in that moment it did. Lungs worked. Fingers wiggled. Dean was alive. He was no longer a soul that was broken and torn into. And his brain most definitely worked. “Angels…” he breathed as he stared around at the horror that lay before him and towards the red stained mountain that he heard about in whispers. There was throne on top of there. It was winged. Well wing bones but winged none the less.

That mountain was Lucifer’s. He was the king of Hell and its seven realms and those were his wings sitting atop the throne. “Cas,” he breathed clinging to the light. Something that seemed a little weird since the dude in front of him wasn’t even physical but more you know…made up of glowy light. Light that was totally shoving demons souls into bodies and killing them but light no less. A voice reverberated around his head.

“Yes,” was all he heard before he lolled forward. Head falling on something that was pillowy and so out of place in Hell. “Good,” words spoken before processing but once he realized what he’d said Dean couldn’t seem to formulate something that was any more fitting. Finally he’d been right. All those wrongs over the years. All the mistakes. Finally he’d said and done the right thing by relaxing and saying ‘good’. “Just as God said,” were the only things he could hear, even through the screams of demons and perhaps even a certain fallen angel. And Dean was totally cool with that.

  
Fire welled up around them and Dean started awake. A lick of golden-white light pressed against his shoulder. “Calm,” it spoke. And calm he did. The emotion seeming to flow along his shoulder and down into his chest. Flaring, it seeped into his bones and Dean wanted to beg for more. He was a Winchester though. Winchesters never begged. Alastair had said that and though he was out of the demon’s grip he couldn’t help but feel the noose around his neck that they were.

“So you are Castiel aren’t you?” he asked staring at the golden fleece of light. It enveloped him and he could still feel the healing touches of it curling across his body to touch on old scars. New scars, didn’t matter either way. His soul was being touched by whatever the hell Castiel had. It was placing soothing touches that didn’t compare to anything that he’d gotten since his mother had died.

“Mum was right,” he breathed into the glow. The light seeming to catch and twist his words as it listened. “She always said that angels watched us,” he explained even though the creature carrying him probably didn’t need the explanation. “I watch you,” the ringing voice said as a tendril of light reached up and pressed against a forehead, killed a demon before relaxing once again around Dean. “My brothers do not have a particularly high threshold for human ignorance,” the sound huffing and swirling around Dean. He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do with the tendrils until they spun and twirled into words. “I however, found your mistakes…interesting,” there was the smoke again, twisting until Dean’s ears were close enough and they snaked in, illuminating his brain for a second before he could see and hear again.

“Oh ain’t I just the most hilarious guy there ever was? Interesting? You serious?” he asked with what he hoped was a raised eyebrow before he got an even more serious look in return from the featureless blob of light that was Castiel. “That’s your serious face, got it,” Dean breathe before curling up once again to press against the chest of light.  
A snort found its way out of Dean’s mouth as he jolted into consciousness again. They were still surrounded by the fires of Hell and part of him wondered if they’d at all moved. “Castiel,” the word sounded alien in the place where the only thing you could hear were the screams of pleading souls. Men and women that were so far gone they didn’t care what they said. Honestly though, you have no idea how many times Dean heard sex being offered as a bargaining chip. The demons would take your blow job or quick fuck, maybe wouldn’t even take you off the rack for it, then they’d get back to cutting you to strips, tearing you to shreds all to have you piece together again for them to wreck and claw at once more.

“Dean, you should not think of that,” Castiel’s voice drifted from far away to close then far again. The undulating sound throwing Dean a little bit. Moving sounds weren’t great for a guy that hunted monsters for a living.

“Cas, do I really have a choice?” Dean asked a little tiredly, the terror hanging from his eyes as he tried his best to stay awake and see what was happening. John had always said that Dean wasn’t a baby that like to go to bed ‘Little Dean didn’t want to miss out on the action’ was what he said.

“No you do not Dean…although I beg as someone who has been watching you since your creation, please shield yourself from these terrors as much as possible,” the words followed by something that could only be described as apology and pleading through the angel’s features. If he was being honest. It threw Dean a little.

  
The devastation around them became smaller and smaller. Smaller being a relative term. By the second month they were in the third ring of hell and smaller meant that the racks were a little sparser but there were still a fair few vats of boiling oil and people being shoved into them, the screams dying out as their mouth was engulfed in the liquid. Needless to say Dean couldn’t drag his eyes away from them as they passed. Castiel covered his face with a feather-light touch and no, Dean didn’t push him away like he would have if it was Sammy.

There was something new to Castiel’s touches. Something that Dean wasn’t going to deny if he ever understood what it was. This was something that he’d never gotten but honestly he’d been left alone so much as a child that he’d never really known what true emotion felt like. Apart from love. And what it felt like to tell a story and the happiness that flushed in his stomach as he made the voices. Even acted out the sword swings and saw the smile that spread across a miserable Sammy’s face. Didn’t matter if he was having a bad day at school or if he was generally feeling shit about Dad not being there Dean could make him happy. That was all he really needed. But he still could see his emotions. Couldn’t feel them. Sam called it emotionally constipated. Dean called it useful. There was no way that he’d be able to do any of what he had.

Out of nowhere he began shaking and with a hand reaching up to touch his face he felt wetness. “Shh, Dean, you are feeling, you just don’t know it yet,” the words whispered against his head as the angel comforted and wrapped an arm around him and Dean felt a little drop in his heart as he started sobbing harder. “T-thanks,” a choked voice said to Castiel as Dean wound his hand around the light.

The touches became heavier and more unnecessary by the time they reached the second ring. Light on Dean’s back when he wasn’t crying. And light tangling with his feet when Castiel thought he was asleep. Dean didn’t stop the angel. It was nice. He hadn’t shared this with anyone since Cassie. Don’t tell Sam but that was the whole reason he dated her. Cassie was so close to Cas and he hoped it had been Cas in a woman’s body. It wasn’t.

“Cas…do you, do you ever find me attractive?” he asked with a heavy breath, unsure of what to say in follow-up. So the words hung in the air, heavy and loaded and Dean felt like shit. Don’t look at him like that, he was allowed to feel shit. The fault was palpable as the angel halted his movement and some of the light turned to face Dean, and expression forming on his face –as impossible it may seem. “Dean, it is not within my jurisdiction to feel attraction towards you, I am a seraph, a warrior angel,” Castiel’s voice reverberated around the area.

It was weird and magical as they stared at each other, eye meeting light in a way that seemed to be so wrong it was right. “Castiel, if I am feeling then you should be feeling too,” Dean deadpanned before crossing his arms. He was pleasantly surprised when Castiel’s grace wound round his arms and pulled them apart. “There is only one exception to my biology,” words lifting the weight that hung between them. Dean started a little. He wasn’t expecting it to be that easy. “Is this gonna be like pullin’ teeth here Cas?” he asked, hopefully knowing the answer already.

  
“If that is a term to define difficulty finding information then yes Dean it will be,” the words reverberated around his head and Dean couldn’t help but let his eyes roll around in his sockets. It brought back memories of the questions that Alastair asked him. His mind quickly snapped back to the present needless to say. “Well aren’t you just a joy to be around?” Dean asked with a small, sarcastic laugh.

“They were not lying when they said that angels are the true vessels of joy then,” words being whispered as if to the entity more than to Dean. There was the eye roll again. Despite the eye roll Dean couldn’t help but let a small smile flicker across his face, something that hadn’t happened since that night with Lilith and the Hellhounds, let alone in his entire lifetime.

“Hate to break it to you buddy but they totally were,” he said with a puff of air that curled out in front of them with tendrils of hellfire illuminating it.

Something happened then.

The light in front of him shook.

It was laughter and Dean full on grinned before checking himself and placing a calming hand on the back of the angel. “Well ain’t it great to see that you aren’t a total weirdo?” he commented before smoothing a hand down Castiel’s back, eyes widening when he reached that vicinity. It would be kinda awkward to touch and angel of the Lord’s butt. “Uhh,” he let out as he turned away face slightly red as he stared at the tortured souls that were crowding around Castiel and him. The angel pushed them away, leaving a red hand print plastered across their faces. “Cas…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have,” the apology hung between them and Dean had to wonder if the movement was welcomed or not.

Ugh, angels were always hard to read. Jesus Christ, why’d things always need to be so. So hard? “Dean you should not use the Lord’s name in vain,” the reprimand was something that Dean was used to. They’d been with each other for a couple of months now and Dean was able to get used to someone in a couple of days. “I-I’m not using it in vain unless I say it out loud, ‘sides, who really cares anyways?” the words snaked out of his lips before he even realized and Dean clamped his mouth shut but it was already too late as there was a mad angel clutching at him and the tattered bits of his soul. Grace swirling in his soul, intertwining and healing. Breath hitching Dean’s eyes watered and he let the side of mouth twitch. “Sorry?” he mumbled a little unsurely only to receive what appeared to be a nod and the grip on him was tighter around him before he even knew it.

  
First ring here they come! It had been six months for Dean and he had to wonder where the time went. Maybe it was touching an angelic entity all the time. It could get to you so don’t you look at him like that. All he knew was that when they reached the light he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Castiel was his rock and he was the sea and he had no idea to do that whole metaphor thing. He was going to fall to bits without his angel there and that’s right he just said his angel and he was an idiot wasn’t he? Dean Winchester didn’t do the whole L word thing and this was just hanging on his neck like some sort of promise that he couldn’t keep. Winchesters kept their promises. “Cas…we’re in the first circle aren’t we? Astaroth’s crib right?” he asked, flaunting the knowledge that his father had instilled in him.

There was a noticeable start when Dean mentioned the prince of the first ring but Castiel seemed to settle soon enough and there was a rustling sound. Like wings being reshuffled. “Yes, we shall be leaving soon enough Dean,” Castiel’s words seemed to be more tangible, like an actual voice had been saying them. Spinning around Dean was faced with a man that was probably a little too hot to be an angel of the Lord.

“Cas…you’ve changed,” he breathed as he stared at the man behind him. Fingers dug into his arm, one resting on his right forearm and the other tight around his left shoulder. “It’s hot,” he breathed before flushing a bright red and realizing how inappropriate what he just said was.

He stared.

Castiel stared back.

Word hung in the air and Dean was scared but all fear was abated when the words were spoken. “I am attracted to you Dean,”. Screaming. Not in real life but there was an expression sitting on Deans that meant he was definitely screaming on the inside.

“Y-You too Cas…I feel more than that though,” he breathed one hand snaking up to rest on the other’s hand on his shoulder. “I feel safe, I know that sounds super stupid but man, you’re an angel and I don’t know what tops that in terms of making people feel safe,” he breathed as he sort of, not really clung to Castiel’s hands, human form. Castiel smiled softly, the movement so subtle, so alien that Dean wasn’t sure what he was looking for but it was there alright.

“Dean, I don’t know how to word this but I will try. The ancient Greeks had three words for love. Familial love, Platonic Love and Lust,” the words paused as they stopped moving, the light of the outside world glaring at them but completely muted in Castiel’s presence. “But they had another word that was so above all the others it had another class,” Dean stared at the angel expectantly, green meeting blue in a sea of self-doubt and worry, pain leaking through here and there but most of all there was hope. “It is adelfés psyches and means soul mates,” Castiel confirmed with a furrowed brow while trying to figure out what he was truly trying to say. “Dean you and I are adelfés psyches and I shall believe that til the end of my life,” he finished and Dean wanted to do something to thank him. Kiss him? Hug him? He’d been doing that since they met.

“I think we are too Cas,” he breathed before doing the one thing that he’d sworn he’d never do to anyone.  
He showed weakness. Nose nuzzled into Castiel’s shoulder he felt the light engulf him and wrap around him. The dazzling whiteness dampened but the gentle tan of Castiel’s trench coat. “I love you Castiel,” he mumbled as he clung to the angel before something wrenched at him.

Hands let go and he was sent falling. Falling into an abyss of nothing and for a moment he was scared to be falling back to Hell. “Calm yourself Dean, I shall be on the other side,” the words echoed around the room and he was terrified for his life but he calmed down just with the husky voice’s reassurances. “Remember Cas,” he called, a hand reaching up and trailing a line with his fingertips of the outline of the heavenly grace. It was haunting really. He loved someone and he was totally gonna see them on the other side.

His lungs ached, like they were being stretched beyond belief. “Where the hell am I?” he asked as he sat bolt upright in the middle of a field. Off to the left there was a man straightening a jacket. He didn’t…NO.

“Dean!” the name came from the man’s voice like he’d been saying it all night long and frankly that scared Dean a little. He ran. Arms reaching out and pulling him close Dean was squished to the button down clad chest and was smelling the deodorant in no time. Kinda gross but he could handle it. A hand reached up to pat his head. His hands were hanging at his sides and he honestly didn’t have any idea of what he was meant to do with them. Awkwardly they drifted up and patted the man’s back gently, musing slight when he felt two ripples there. Wow…he must have been ripped.

“Listen, I-I don’t know what we did last night, party must have been a rager because I honestly can’t remember a thing,” he said as he pulled away with an apologetic smile on his face before turning away. It was still there while he walked away and lifted a hand up in a final goodbye. “I’m sure you were great though!” he called out before walking way once again. He never saw the heartbreak that was sitting on the other man’s face as he disappeared into thin air.


End file.
